


fools (jercybeth drabbles)

by deadangelo



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Jercybeth, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Threesome - F/M/M, i just think they're neat, it's all post-hoo college (idk toa) au unless stated otherwise lmao, they're like juniors/seniors in college (is it new rome university? maybe. who knows? not me), will add tags as we go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadangelo/pseuds/deadangelo
Summary: a series of unrelated drabbles about the ultimate ot3, jercybeth (aka jason/percy/annabeth)(also i haven't read toa and at this point i outright refuse to. so let's all just pretend it never happened, m'kay?)
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Jason Grace, Annabeth Chase/Jason Grace/Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jason Grace/Percy Jackson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	1. in the night

Percy wakes hours before the alarm is set to go off. The edges of his dream are already fading fast from his mind, and he can’t remember most of it - just the feeling of weightlessness and a sound like a wolf howling. He knows it wasn’t a nightmare, only because his heartbeat is steady and there isn’t any fear in him. All he feels is the familiar warmth of body heat trapped beneath the comforter. 

He opens his eyes slowly, making no effort to move. Annabeth and Jason are lighter sleepers than he is, Annabeth especially, and he doesn’t want to disrupt the peace of the quiet night he’s found himself in by waking them. 

It’s been years since the Little Tiber washed away the Curse of Achilles, but he still has nightmares, and he still prefers to have his back protected in some way as he slept. Some nights, his lovers take on the task, arms warm and secure around his waist. But tonight, he rests easily with his back facing the wall that the side of their bed is pushed against. 

Jason is fast asleep in front of him, the side of his hair smushed in a way he’ll have to fix in the morning, and Percy’s lips quirk up in a smile. Jason’s snoring so quietly that Percy can barely hear it, even just half a foot away. Even in his sleep, he’s tactile, reaching a hand out toward Percy. Percy vaguely remembers falling asleep on his back, Jason’s fingers splayed against his stomach, but now Jason’s hand is laying on the bed sheets. Barely having to move, Percy slips his hand under Jason’s. 

He can just barely see blonde curls over the top of Jason’s head, and he can picture the familiar sight of Annabeth fast asleep on her side - her mouth parted ever so slightly, her hair a mess around her face and neck, face free of tension. One arm rests over Jason’s side, loose and comfortable. 

She’ll be the first to wake up in the morning, Jason close behind. They’re both morning people - Annabeth because it's just her nature, and Jason because growing up at Camp Jupiter had all but conditioned his body into waking up early. Percy supposes their inclination toward mornings is what helps them survive the eight am classes they _willingly_ register for, whereas Percy tried to go for classes that didn’t start until eleven at the earliest. 

Suffice to say, college hasn’t made him any more of a morning person. 

But it’s still a few hours until morning, judging by the distinct lack of sunlight in the bedroom. So, scooting carefully closer toward his lovers, Percy closes his eyes again and falls asleep easily. 


	2. nightmares

Jason wakes with a start, his midsection aching with phantom pain. Words his conscious mind has fought to forget - _born a Roman, die a Roman, born a Roman, die a Roman_ \- echo in his mind, bringing him back to the shock and fear and pain he’d felt in what feels like another life. His heart is pounding so hard he might have been able to hear it, if not for the blood roaring in his ears. 

Jason’s nightmares were rare compared to Percy and Annabeth’s. Nightmares about their time in Tartarus were all too common for them, but Jason - his nightmares were hardly ever as intense. Even this feels like a feeble nightmare after waking up so often to Annabeth jolting up in the bed, reaching blindly for her partners to reassure herself they’re there, or Percy gasping awake, the haunted look in his eyes lingering long past breakfast. 

But it’s still a nightmare, and it leaves him shaking. 

Annabeth stirs at the movement of Jason startling awake, the lightest sleeper out of the three. She’s visibly groggy, still half-asleep as she turns over onto her other side, moving to face. “Jase?” she asks sleepily. 

Jason swallows against the desert his throat has become. “Sorry,” he whispers, trying to calm his racing heart as he settles back into the bed. He’s not sure he’ll be able to go back to sleep, but it’s still dark outside, so he doesn’t want to get out of bed just yet.

“What’s wrong?” Annabeth mumbles, her eyes half-shut but focused on him all the same. 

“Just a nightmare,” he tells her, apologetically reaching out to push a stray curl out of her face. “It’s nothing.” 

Annabeth frowns the way she and Percy both do when Jason says those words, or some variation of them. “You okay?” 

Jason takes a deep, sobering breath before he answers. “Yeah.” 

Annabeth doesn’t look convinced. “Wanna talk about it?” she asks, her voice slurring with sleep. 

“No,” Jason says quietly. “I’m okay now. It just woke me up.” 

If she were any more awake, Jason’s pretty sure she would have protested that explanation, or at least pushed a little further. But she’d only gotten about three hours of sleep the night before, and she’s fighting to keep her eyes open. 

So, instead, she scoots closer to the middle, toward him, and lays an arm over his waist. Jason shifts onto his side, his heart no longer thundering in his ribcage. Percy’s still sound asleep next to him, his expression serene. Jason hopes he’s dreaming of something pleasant.

As if she knows exactly what he’d dreamt of, Annabeth presses the front of her body against his back, her hand covering the spot on his stomach where Michael Varus’s sword had pierced through him. Like a piece of armor, her touch blocks the memory of the impalement, and the pain that followed.

The edges of his nightmare linger, but the warmth of Annabeth’s touch and the sound of Percy’s steady breathing do a fine job of chasing them away.

*

Annabeth’s nightmares come without fail at least once every week. Some nights she’s lucky enough not to remember the contents - just the fear that wakes her, even if only for a moment before sleep calls her back. 

Other nights, she remembers every awful detail. 

There are too many terrifying moments in her past for her subconscious to pick from when deciding what to torment her with. There’s the years of being on the run, fighting monsters and watching her best friend give her life to save hers; there’s the deep, burning betrayal she’d been stunned with so young; there’s the weight of the sky on her shoulders, crushing and almost unbearable; there's the back-to-back wars she fought, and all the lives they stole; there are the days she’d spent not knowing where Percy was, if he was even alive; and there’s Tartarus, which is more often than not the main setting of her nightmares. 

It’s dawn when the latest of her nightmares wakes her. Faint sunlight is just beginning to come in through the window, creating stripes of light against the carpet as it came through the half-shut blinds. 

As she opens her eyes, she can see the alarm clock on the nightstand reading _6:19_. It’ll go off in eleven minutes so she and Jason can get ready for their shared eight AM - 20th Century Architecture. 

Images from her nightmare linger, blurry but nonetheless haunting. Her eyes are wet with tears, but the why is lost as her mind shifts from dreams to reality. She can’t remember the exact plot of her dream, though she doesn’t try very hard to. Some things are better off forgotten in waking hours.

As quietly and gently as she can, she reaches out to shut the alarm off, saving Percy from the temporary waking he usually experiences on the days Annabeth and Jason have early morning classes. He almost always falls back asleep as soon as the alarm is shut off, but Annabeth doubts he appreciates the interruption to his slumber. 

Jason must already be on the edge of waking, because he lets out a quiet groan at the movement of her reaching for the alarm clock. Less wary of waking up her boyfriends, since the lightest sleeper is already waking up, and Percy could probably sleep through a tornado, Annabeth sits up, rubbing her face with a quiet sigh before pulling her hands away, practically hearing Piper’s admonishing voice reminding her to stop touching her face so much. 

“What time is it?” Jason asks, his voice quiet and raspy from sleep. He can see the alarm clock from where he was laying, now that Annabeth’s sat up, but his eyes are still closed, as if savoring the last moments of sleep before he inevitably wakes up to face the day. 

“Six twenty-eight,” she answers. “Time to get up and face Professor Turner.” 

Jason lets out another groan, burying his face in the pillow for a count of ten. Neither of them have much love for the grouchy ex-architect turned overly-critical professor that they have to deal with every Tuesday and Thursday. 

Jason finally moves to sit up, but a pair of arms stops him in his tracks. Annabeth stifles a laugh as he finally opens his eyes, looking over his shoulder at Percy, who looks all but dead to the world, save for the steady sound of his breathing and the tiny spot of drool on his cheek. 

Some things never change. 

It’s like a game of Jenga as Jason carefully disentangles himself from Percy’s embrace, wincing as Percy mumbles a protest in his sleep before settling back down, burying himself in the comforter so only the top half of his face is visible. 

When he’s finally sitting up, he presses a closed-mouth kiss to Annabeth’s cheek. Then he squints at her face, his brow furrowing. 

“You okay?” he murmurs, reaching up a hand to wipe his thumb under her eye. 

“Bad dream,” is the only explanation she offers. 

Jason doesn’t ask her if she wants to talk about it, because he knows she doesn’t. They all deal with their nightmares differently - Percy copes better when he can talk through them; Jason typically just needs a bit of physical comfort and he’s fine; and Annabeth prefers to forget whenever possible. 

“I’ll go make coffee,” he says quietly, reaching for his glasses. 

She can still feel the fear. She knows it won’t be the last nightmare she has to deal with. There will be worse ones, ones that leave her gasping for breath and scrambling for purchase in reality. But for now, she’s content with the knowledge that they’re only nightmares, and reality will always replace them. 

*

Percy’s all too used to nightmares. Sometimes they’re memories, a way for his subconscious to make him relive his worst moments; sometimes they’re less content-based and more emotion-based, leaving him half-functioning the next day; sometimes they’re the almosts - nightmares where he wasn’t fast enough, or strong enough, or good enough to save the people he loved. 

These are the ones he dreads the most. They leave him waking violently, heart pounding as he frantically searches for proof they’re only dreams, that things worked out in the end, that the people he cares about most are safe. 

They’re the rarest of his nightmares, thankfully, but they still happen, and they still leave him breathless. 

This nightmare is the worst he can remember. 

It’s as if his subconscious has concocted the absolute worst dream to hit him with, combining one awful idea with another. It’s so vivid he can still see it as his eyes shoot open. Camp Half-Blood in ruins, everyone he’s ever cared about dead, leaving him the only one left standing. As if that wasn’t already horrible, in his dream, he’s kneeling between Annabeth and Jason’s lifeless bodies, their faces colorless and eyes staring, unseeing up to a cruel, uncaring sky. 

The bed’s empty, which doubles his panic. If he wasn’t reeling from the dream, he’d know that he was almost always the last to wake up, and that, since it’s Saturday, Annabeth and Jason are more than likely out in the living room or the kitchen, as alive as they were when they went to sleep. But Percy’s mind is foggy and logic is taking a nap in the backseat, leaving panic to steer, and their absence in the bed tells him that his dream was real, and they’re gone for good. 

He almost falls in his scramble to get out of bed, the sheets like hands trying to keep him in place. He’s out of the bedroom in seconds, calling out with a cracking voice, “Annabeth? Jason?” 

He finds Annabeth in the living room, looking up from her laptop with a concerned frown. She barely has a chance to ask him what’s wrong before he practically collapses onto the couch next to her, arms shaking as he pulls her into them. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Annabeth whispers, setting her laptop on the coffee table and wrapping her arms around him. He’s still shaking as she threads her fingers through his hair, anchoring him to the real world.

“Where’s Jason?” Percy asks, his voice breathless with fear. “Where is he?” 

“He’s okay, he went out to get breakfast,” Annabeth assures him. “He’ll be back soon. What happened?” 

He can only tell her the bare bones of his nightmare, though the details still haunt him. She doesn’t ask for them, though, only listens to what he can share and holds him as his heartbeat gradually starts to slow. He’s still tense with worry, with fear that somehow Annabeth is wrong, that Jason isn’t coming back soon, that something happened to - 

The sound of the front door opening is music to his ears. 

Annabeth lets go of him as he scrambles off of the couch, running for the door. Jason’s just closing the door when he’s surprised with an armful of Percy, and Percy’s pretty sure it’s only Jason’s quick reflexes that keep them both from toppling to the ground.

Percy can’t see Jason’s expression, his face already buried in the crook of his neck, but he’s sure Jason looks confused. “Good morning to you, too?” he says, more a question than a greeting. 

Percy hears Annabeth coming in from the living room. “Nightmare,” she explains softly, taking the bag of what smells like fresh donuts and the tray of coffees from Jason’s hands so he can hug Percy back properly. 

That’s the only explanation Jason needs to understand. His arms tighten around Percy, not an inch of space between them as the tension finally leaves Percy. 

“I’m right here,” Jason whispers, which is the exact thing Percy needs to hear. 

He lets himself cling to Jason for a count of twenty, just breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne and reveling in the familiar warmth of his embrace. It doesn’t erase the memory of his nightmare, and it won’t stop the ones that he knows will come in the future, but it chases away the worst of his fears, and reminds him his nightmare wasn’t real, and Annabeth and Jason are safe, right within reach. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone's curious, in my mind their college majors are: 
> 
> Annabeth - architecture & interior design double major  
> Jason - architecture & classics double major (LISTEN it makes sense in my head w/ his minor gods project don't @ me)  
> Percy - marine biology major


End file.
